Karl Schroeder - Permanence

"And so," Rue said very softly, "the halo worlds become able to launch our own cyclers at last." Mike took her hand in his, and squeezed it.

She'd barely had a chance to talk to Mike in the whirlwind of activity that had followed Crisler's escape. When he arrived to rescue her team and she realized he had abandoned the rebels, Rue had felt a rush of happiness that had carried her through the whirlwind. Now, with Crisler's ships secure and dispatches ready for sending to Colossus, New Armstrong, and Crisler's probable destination, she could finally relax for a moment.

The scientists cheered the cycler launch like they were watching a sporting match. Herat turned away, smiling fondly, and said, "Hello, Rue. Are you getting ready to leave?"

She nodded. "There's much to do. Are you staying here, Laurent, or are you going back to High Space? Now that we know they exist, I'm sure you'll be able to find the Lasa themselves."

He shook his head. "No— or rather, we already found them. They are that." He gestured to the vast machinery of the Twins visible through the window. "That and no more. The original Lasa— the species that gave us the name— realized that no species is permanent. Only the ecological niches, the environments friendly to one or another kind of life, have any kind of permanence. They saw that they would rise and fall like every living form. So, instead of trying to extend their existence, like so many other species before and since," he sighed, "they looked to ways of preserving and nourishing an environment that would encourage the birth and growth of species similar to themselves. Cooperative, farsighted peoples."

He turned back to contemplate the view. "I'm going to stay here, and make it my life to study this place. The Lasa, you see, aren't a species. They're an environment— an ecological niche. Bequith, here, explained that to me. And I'm coming to agree with him that humanity would do well to expand into and nurture this niche."

As usual, Rue didn't completely understand Herat. But he smiled at her, and turned back to watch the cycler launch. That smile was enough to tell her he was content.

She turned to Mike, and now her throat was tight again. "And what about you? You came back for us, when you could have gone with Barendts and become the greatest hero of the rebels."

He shrugged. "I just realized it would never stop. We might get Kimpurusha back, but what then? It would never return to what it was when it was part of the Compact. And… and I realized that freeing Kimpurusha wouldn't satisfy me. There was something better I could do."

Rue bit her lip, avoiding his eyes. "So where will you go now?"

He had that mysterious smile again. "I want to help revive the Cycler Compact. Right now, there's nowhere I'd rather be than wherever you're taking the cycler mother seed."

"Why, Mr. Bequith," she said, grinning back at him. "Where else would I take it? It's coming with me to Erythrion."

He hesitated. "And your crew will go with you. That's six, including Rebecca's girlfriend; there's no room in the interceptor for one more…"

Now she laughed. "Evan is staying here. He wants to return to High Space."

"And that means…"

She took his hand and smiled into his eyes. "There is a berth on my ship, Mr. Bequith, if you would like to have it."

RUE STOOD AT a window, and the view from it was real, neither holographic nor inscape. Treya shone close by, a sphere of pearly auroral light transfixed by one circle of purest white radiance where the artificial sun was shining today on clouds. The orbital colony where Rue stood had once been the property of the Cycler Compact; it had seemed a fitting place for her to stay, for now.

"You see?" she said to Michael, who stood at her side. "Sunlight, of a sort. Too bright for me, but you'll like it."

Michael rested his hand on hers. The cuffs of their shirts were an identical black; she wore her captain's uniform, and Michael had accepted the high-collared clerical counterpart. He looked good in uniform, especially now that he seemed to have overcome his demons. He radiated authority.

Sounds of debate came from behind them. A long oak table filled the other end of the room. A group of men and women, mostly elderly, were going over a complex set of plans and edicts. They all looked slightly shell-shocked. A week ago none had suspected that their lives would be overturned by the arrival of Rue.

There were fourteen people here; fourteen in all Erythrion who had once held positions of power in the Cycler Compact and who might still be trusted by the people. On Oculus, the Compact had been a living thing, a vast and ancient order that encompassed both government and religion. Oculus had been vibrant, forward looking. Well, Rue was determined that Erythrion would become so too.

Only the monks of Permanence and a few holdouts from the old days had responded immediately to Rue's summons. On her arrival she had exercised the prerogative of a cycler captain in ordering a special session of the Compact executive. The first replies had been angry accusations that she was playing some trick; she had been called disrespectful to the glorious past that the proud few still revered.

Her response to that was to transmit substantial excerpts from Blair's records. The discovery of Jentry's Envy and the proof that Rue had learned to control it was enough to yield a second round of responses. These were respectful and curious. She claimed to come bearing great news, and yet she had not arrived by magsail. Had she come from High Space? And what was this news?

Her first meeting here, a week ago, had begun inauspiciously. The men and women who filed into this office were just civilians— albeit rich and powerful, some of them. They had long ago retired their uniforms and rented out the offices of the Compact to local businesses. Ten people who might have been here had refused to come, citing more important business of one kind or another. Rue suspected that they simply believed the Compact was dead or not worth reviving.

She had not minced words during that first meeting. "The Cycler Compact has been reborn," she told them. "Erythrion is requested to restore its institutions to the standards of the Compact. In the months and years ahead, you will have the opportunity to return to your traditional roles in the administration of the Compact. In fact, Erythrion is critical to the rebirth of our great civilization. For we will be the first halo world in decades to begin launching new cyclers."

They had begun to come around, gradually. Then, as the news of the cycler mothers sank in, skepticism had changed to enthusiasm, then almost feverish excitement. The scattered worlds of the halo could be reunited. The shared experience of living in the interstellar fastness could reach everyone, no matter how remote. From being isolated colonies with no belief in a future, they could become explorers and settlers again. The offer was almost unbelievable; in a kind of desperation to prove it real, they were working day and night now to lay the groundwork for the return of the cyclers.

The argument behind Rue and Mike now reached a fever pitch, then broke in laughter. She turned. Corinna Chandra stood at the head of the table, waving to the text in a holo window. "That's it, then," she said. "The monks of Permanence will take charge of the cycler mother seed. We will see to its nurturing and growth."

There were nods around the table, some reluctant, some enthusiastic. Rue smiled at Corinna, who seemed to be beaming all the time, these days. Corinna had adopted the seed as if it were her own child, and she was fiercely protective of it. This new agreement was a good one; people still respected the monks, and they alone still controlled the myriad launch beams and power tethers that orbited Erythrion. The launch beams could double as weapons in a pinch, everyone knew that, so the monks' possession of the seed would not be threatened.